Page 35 of Pursued By the Orc
“I’m not slow,” she’d say to me whenever she saw someone rushing, arching one elegant brow, “I’m deliberate. There’s a difference.”
Despite the aches in her joints, she never surrendered her style. Her cardigans were cashmere, her lipstick always perfectly applied—even if it took two tries and a magnifying mirror to get it right—and her perfume—a faint, powdery floral that brought back to mind every hug she’d ever given me—clung to her like a signature.
Her sense of humor was dry with the ones she loved, a little wicked, and delivered with the impeccable timing of someone who’d spent a lifetime mastering the art of the comeback.
But under the wit and the pearls was a heart so open it hurt—soft in all the right places, generous in the quietest ways. She baked when her hands let her, listened more than she spoke, and treated everyone she met with the same warmth.
“I do love guests,” she gushed, her eyes wrinkling at the corner with pleasure as her lips curled with a grin. “And you brought me a handsome one!”
I smothered a laugh, gesturing toward Krusk with my free hand. “This is my friend Krusk, Grandma. Krusk,” I said, gesturing toward my grandma now. “This is my grandma. You can call her—”
“He can call me Grandma,” she interrupted me, patting the table to let me know she wanted us to come closer.
I narrowed my eyes, giving her my best warning look, but she was too busy studying Krusk from head to foot.
Oh Gods, it’s going to be bad.
“Be good,” I murmured to her as I got closer and she nodded absently, waving me off.
“I’m always amazing,” she scoffed, and while that was true, I couldn’t help but wonder what she had planned for me with that gleam in her eyes. “Now, please, Krusk. Come closer.”
Krusk stood in the middle of the kitchen like someone had just dropped a battle tank into a dollhouse. His massive frame hunched awkwardly, trying to take up less space but only managing to knock a paper towel holder onto the floor with his elbow. It hit the tile with a metallic clang that echoed like a warning.
“Oh dear,” my grandma said, turning in his direction, her orthopedic shoes squeaking softly with the movement. “Is the demolition a part of the visit?”
Krusk fumbled to pick up the paper towels, his blunted claws accidentally getting stuck and unrolling most of it. “Sorry!” he started, before grumbling, “Weak human construction.”
“I suppose next you’ll tell me the butter dish attacked first?” my grandma said, tongue in cheek as she pointed to where it had been sitting next to the roll. The porcelain was now shattered where it sat.
He blinked down at the damage, glancing back at her and wincing. “It looked… hostile.”
I tried to suppress a laugh behind my hand but my grandmadidn’t bother, guffawing out loud, waving at him to move closer. He did, looking around first to make sure he wouldn’t hit anything else on his way.
She stood too, shuffling over and peering up at him with a magnified squint that could spot a lie at twenty paces. “So. Are you a new boyfriend?” she asked, and Krusk’s mouth opened and closed without answering, glancing over at me, but I was too busy covering my face with my hands to help. “What an… impressive dental arrangement,” she mused, peering up at his tusks.
Krusk straightened, baring his tusks awkwardly. “Thank you. I floss every day.”
“You’d have to. One of those things could hold an entire dinner plate,” she marveled, moving closer to study them. Krusk stayed perfectly still, as though he was a display doll, and I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry.
Just then, the smart fridge—probably reacting to Krusk’s heat signature—chirped to life and opened its doors with a softpop.Krusk roared instinctively, spinning around, and body-blocking my grandma and I protectively.
“What the hell—?” he started, but Grandma waved him off, slapping him heartily across his back before turning to wiggle her eyebrows at his impressive back muscles that I wascertainshe was copping a feel of.
“It’s a brand new thingamabob they installed and it keeps reacting to anything that moves in here,” Grandma muttered, going back to where she’d been sitting, taking a placid sip of her tea.
Krusk stared at the fridge. “Why does it have a touchscreen?”
“It’s supposed to help me plan meals and remember my medicine,” Grandma explained, “But all I’ve used it for is to tell me where the mustard is.”
“Interesting,” Krusk murmured, edging his way toward thetable, trying not to make direct eye contact with the fridge again.
“Now, as I was saying, tell me about yourself,” Grandma said, taking another long sip of her tea.
He nodded, his face a mask of determination as he moved in front of her, dropping to one knee and then slamming his fist to his chest. The sound was so loud that I winced, wondering if he’d damaged himself. “My name is Krusk, Grandma, and I’m honored to meet you,” he said in a firm voice.
Grandma blinked down at him before looking over at me, her eyes gleaming with amusement. She knocked her own fist against her chest, much more quietly and with significantly less force, but Krusk’s face relaxed as she said, “My name’s Eileen, and I’m honored to meet you as well.”
His grin was fast and relieved. “Can I still call you Grandma?”
